


A Good Day For A Sandwich

by GutsAllegoryRam



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: Cooking, F/M, Humor, Rule 63, Underwear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 18:37:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GutsAllegoryRam/pseuds/GutsAllegoryRam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex-reversed (still feeling out a substitute word for genderbend, which is cissexist) Maka and Soul struggle to get along on a day where the air conditioner breaks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day For A Sandwich

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sex-swap AU of Soul Eater, featuring a more butch interpretation of Soul than was depicted in the canon genderswap chapter of SE. Use this image for reference:  
> http://oi44.tinypic.com/xcssy1.jpg (no idea of source, sorry)
> 
> Inspired also by various exchanges/posts by tumblr user glassvines, most especially http://glassvines.tumblr.com/post/12870471419/silly-non-canon-girl-soul-crack-or-something

Soul Evans lay perched on her bed, working her way through a recently-torrented Noisia discography when suddenly her laptop went to battery power. Glancing across her room, the alarm clock (placed inconveniently at Makoto’s insistence) peered back at her with 4 lifeless LED digits. It would appear that the power had gone out.

She got to her feet with a grumble—sometimes you just get into a really nice position! You don’t even think about how perfect it was until you try to resume the precise arrangement your arms and legs had fallen into; left only to fret over how much less comfortable you are now than mere moments before.

Sighing, Soul stumbled out into the second floor’s hallway, dragging her bare feet on the cool, smooth hardwood floor. Reaching the staircase she spotted a familiar lanky silhouette rounding the bottom; a relieving sight in the face of of menial household labor. Where would Soul be without a handy, electrically-inclined meister to do all of the work for her? Burying the heinous thought of occasionally lifting a finger around the house, she joined Mak in the stale, stuffy, dark confines of basement, as he took the liberty of flipping the breakers.

“I think I remember the landlord saying something about this,” Makoto said grimly, “the central A.C. shuts itself down, or it’s got faulty wiring, either way it’s tough to get back online once it goes.”

“Awww come ON dude, really?”

“Well yeah, I know you’re good with the motorbike, but it’s… kind of beyond us.”

“No duuuuude…” Soul rubbed his head teasingly, “I was talking about you, ‘back online’, what is this the Starship Encorporated?”

“Enterprise…” he corrected her, drawing an exasperated sigh from his partner-in-uncoolness. He walked back towards the staircase, dragging his own feet now as he awaited an uncomfortable rise in temperature.

“You’re gonna have to call fleet command on this one!” Soul shouted up the staircase, “tell ‘em the planet is barren, not a single book deposit in siiight!!!”

Makoto slammed the basement door shut as the lady-scythe was left to herself with a bittersweet sharktooth grin—it felt bad to see him get down on himself, but the things he said (SO easy to tease) and the ways he reacted (SO melodramatic) once she called him on it… how could anyone resist?? Then there was the cute way he’d get conscientious of himself and try to act normal, only to end up more stilted than before.

‘Why doesn’t everybody have a dweeb of their own?’ Soul thought to herself, as she gave an idle scan of the basement. “Lo and behold, the intrepid star explorer has jettisoned his laundry!” Soul whispered as she closed in on the basket, “wait no, it’s clean… so he like, wouldn’t jettison—whatever…” she trailed off as she examined its contents. She checked the staircase to see that it was clear, snickering as she snatched up a pair of her housemate’s underwear. A pair of grey briefs, ‘what is he, 10? LAME!' she thought to herself.

But the longer Soul examined the questionably-chosen pair of undergarments, the more her mind wandered, and soon imagined them on a boy: a boy sitting alone in his room, dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and his lame little briefs, glued to a book which clothed him like nothing in the world. Soul melted into a gleeful smile, clutching them to her chest. Precious: it was a stupid word, a wholly uncool word, a word not fit for Soul’s vocabulary, and yet there was no corner of the universe so rich in precious metals (that was like, a science term, so it worked) as her housemate.

“Soul, landlord says it’ll be a day before he can come out to fix it! He said we’re gonna have to make due with fans and ice packs in the meantime!” Soul's heart skipped a beat as he shouted; in a moment of panic she dropped the briefs in the basket, as Makoto came back down the stairs. “Hey, what are you doing down here anyway, is that my laundry?”

“Yeeeaaah,” Soul growled; if there was one thing she was good at, it was masking her formerly-girly moments behind a haze of what-tha-fuck’s-it-look-like-I-was-doing nonchalance. “I was in the process of carrying it upstairs, Commander.”

The meister snorted in response, “Commander?”

“Yes, Commander,” Soul said, holding the basket with one hand and raising the undies with the other, “Rest assured the universe remains unaware that you still wear Underoos~” she emphasized the last word with an evil purr.

“They’re not Underoos!!!!” Makoto shouted, voice cracking as he snatched them out of her hand and stormed back up the stairs with a blush.

Soul sighed as she hoisted the basket once more and carried it to the first floor, “SO easy,” she giggled.

Soul got to her room and realized that already the house had gotten just a little bit hotter. She grabbed a pair of yellow exercise shorts, a cream-colored tanktop, and, turning to the wall, shouted, “HEY MAK, I’M CHANGING INTO SOMETHING COOLER, YOU WANNA SEE WHAT *MY* UNDERWEAR LOOKS LIKE???”

“SOLEIL EVANS: CLOSETED TRAINING BRA COLLECTOR,” shouted a voice from the next room over, muffled by the wall.

“I GREW OUT OF THOSE LIKE A YEAR AGO, SHUT UP!” Soul indignantly piped up. Only a little prick like him would bring her given name into this argument—the nerve!

In time, the temperature in the house rose, as did Soul’s appetite. She set down her headphones and walked down to Makoto’s room, “Hey dude, I—” Soul trailed off as she walked in on a shirtless Makoto reading a fantasy novella. Her lips spread and her teeth bared as she giggled to herself, “you were waiting for me, weren’t you? Looking to showcase the way your ribs show through your skin juuust slightly, is that it~?” her expression scaled back into a meek smile as her eyes darted around the room between quick (but pointed) glances of her housemate.

Makoto furrowed his brow and shot her a dirty look, turning back to his story with a prim, uninterested frown, “You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

Soul sneered (it is was all in good fun), “yeah dude… you’re always talking about warped gender equilateral or whatever, so how ‘bout you make me a sandwich~?”

“Equality,” he corrected, “and how about no?”

“How about you make it for me nnnakiiiiiiiid~~~” she growled, throwing her head back and slapping her own ass for emphasis.

“NO!” Makoto squawked, voice cracking again as his face lit up in embarrassment; instinctively he reached for a paperback on his nightstand and threw it at her.

If there was one Rainman-like, inexplicable talent that Makoto had, it was that his throwing aim and strength were on par with a major-league pitcher, as the book struck Soul square in the face, leaving a great red mark on her forehead.

“GAHK!” Soul exclaimed once the book hit her, before letting into a fit of low, snarky giggles, “alright, alright, I’ll go-o-o-o~” She turned away and closed the door as Makoto stirred, worried that the blow had hurt her. Soul reached her room and dabbed tears from her eyes onto the hem of her tanktop. Of course it wasn’t uncalled for, it wasn’t even the most painful blow she had exchanged with him, but it had been just a little startling. She spent most of the afternoon reflecting on their exchanges, when it dawned on Soul just how much she had teased him today. She calmed herself as she flopped onto her bed: she'd apologize for it… eventually. Ten minutes later, the door creaked open.

“Hey. Um, I felt really bad about hitting you with that book, I thought it was kind of small and lightweight, and-”

“It’s fine, bro-” Soul said, back turned to him, “I had it coming.”

“Well, all the same, I thought I’d make you your sandwich now, what do you want on it?”

Soul turned around to finally look at him and reply, “Oh that’s fine dude, I can ma-” she stopped mid-sentence. She stopped mid-word, maybe even mid-syllable as her heart stopped along with it— in her doorway stood a skinny nerd clad in nothing but an apron and his Beefy Hanes. Her face turned red, her eyes narrowed, and her mouth curled into a goofy grin. She tried to keep composure but within seconds she descended, no, DEVOLVED into a fit of gasping laughter.

Mak smiled to see his comrade in such good spirits after catching her with the paperback, though the longer she laughed (and laugh she did), the more self-conscious he became, “I’ll uh, I-I’ll… take this off…”

“No!” Soul squeaked, once again she tried to put on an assuring smile, but took the time to scurry off her bed and give him a hug, “no, it’s really sweet, honest.” She scratched his scalp (to which Makoto scrunched his face), “and I know how hot it is, this is just grrrrreat~” She pulled back with hopes of seeing a smile, and sure enough, his mouth slowly curved into a bashful smile. “I'll meet you downstairs!” Soul said, giving him a joking spank and swiftly shutting the door.

Makoto yelped at the sudden contact, his face lighting up red. Walking down the hallway, he felt… nervous wearing just his underwear. Maybe he was a little more conscientious of his body than the average guy, but at least Soul didn't seem to care that much. She poked fun at his choice of underwear not infrequently, though she never seemed to comment on his physique.

He felt guilty about his body… Sometimes it felt like he should stride to look manlier, less… twiglike… but ultimately it was reading he enjoyed more; a taut, muscley body wasn't in the cards for him, no matter how much Black Star and Soul went on teasing him. At last, Makoto reached the kitchen and thumbed through his recipe book.

“Might actually be fun to make a Monte Christo…” he muttered, fetching the saucepan and a mixing bowl. He set about preparing the sandwich, tittering to himself the entire time. He thought about what he might say to Soul regarding his underwear, “you don't understand briefs, it's, it's a comfort thing…”

“Duly noted,” came a voice from over his shoulder, as Makoto cried out and wheeled around, startled. Soul had silently seated herself at the table and elected to take off her shorts. Makoto fidgeted, blushing profusely as he caught a generous view of Soul's black undies from the side. “Thought I'd return the favor,” she said with a coquettish swivel of her hips.

Makoto resumed making the sandwich, guiltily trying to avoid staring at his housemate's shapely hind. He didn't want to think of Soul as sexy, but… he… couldn't… help… sneaking a peek here and there. That is to say, he tried to sneak a peek, several times, but was caught each time with Soul flat-out gawking at him.

Soul lounged in the chair, drinking in the view of the awkward, string bean-shaped stallion fixing her lunch. She never took her eyes off of him, which became particularly amusing when his gaze dropped and he turned slooooowly around, as though Soul totally wasn't there, eyes glued to his intrepid star explorer tightie-whities (ok, this pair was red).

“See something you like~?”

“As if.”

“I take it this is your first time seeing a girl in her… paaaanan-tiiiiiiiiiiies, eh Mak?”

“So? Besides, what are you ogling me for, I thought that you…”

“Mmmm-hmmm~?”

“Just shut up already, I can't focus when you're, you're… Using your sexy feminine wiles on me!”

Soul covered her face, blushing slightly, laughing to hide the shock and flattery that had come with his comment. Makoto's face flushed, thoroughly humiliated at having just blurted that out- it'd come out of nowhere.

“L-Look, I…”

“Have a panty kink?”

“NO!” he squeaked, voice cracking yet again.

“Have a thing for girls who're out of your league?”

“AS IF!” his voice was raised, obviously flustered, even though he was neatly cutting the finished sandwich. Soul lay with her head on the table, grinning at him as he avoided eye contact. Makoto leered at her as he calmly brought the sandwich over to the table, placing it in front of her. Soul eyed the sandwich. It looked… fried? She took a bite into it, soft, spongy, almost cakelike, and exclaimed as she savored the bite.

“Wow, what is this?”

“It's called a Monte Christo sandwich.”

“It looks like French Toast.”

“That's because it is.”

“Mmmf,” Soul mumbled as she bit in, her voice subsequently rose into a pleased hum. “Itf gud! Id goesh gret wid dhe ham!”

“Thank you…”

Soul stopped eating for a second, got up and hugged him. She began to talk, but the things she was saying slipped his mind, preoccupied with the uncommon sight directly in front of him. Soul’s movements, as they were, had given Makoto a generous, up-close-and-personal view of the skull and crossbones… was it a thong she had on? He knew nothing about underwear. All he knew was that it had gotten particularly hot and that Soul was babbling some kind of apology while he zoned out.

“You like my underwear, don't you~?” came a low and sultry voice that startled him.

“I! No! It was-” he was cut short as Soul shushed him.

“That was the idea Mak,” her voice had softened, taking on a reassuring tone as she tousled his hair. He sat perfectly still, spellbound. “I'm gonna eat this tasty sandwich you made me, I'm gonna stand here and…” she trailed off, hesitating, unsure if she wanted to follow through on the impulse that had brought her downstairs in the first place (beyond, of course, picking up her sandwich). Makoto looked up, an innocent and perplexed look on his face. Soul sighed yet again, addressing him as she looked off in the distance, “Promise not to tell anyone about this?”

He nodded.

“I mean it.”

His brow furrowed. He nodded once again.

“I'm gonna stand here and eat this sandwich. You… You're… You're allowed…” she sighed as he looked up at her. What Soul was about to say was embarrassing, but ultimately… warranted. “You're _welcome_ to… to stare at me. I promise.”

Makoto looked up at her, “look, you don’t have to degrade-”

“I've tormented you enough today,” Soul cut him off, “I’m prolly gonna live to regret this, but as long as you tell NO ONE, you… you can just ogle me and stare and I won't fight you on it. We cool?”

Soul blushed slightly, not for the fact that she was giving him permission to stare at her body, but for the fact that she lost herself in staring at his. Truthfully, she could care less if he told anyone about this—he could tell the whole world for all she cared, what worried her was the world finding out she’d eyed some dweeb like he was modeling for Nerd Monthly Magazine (published online so as not to harm the environment, because that was a thing dorks cared about).  She pursed her lips as she looked down, eyeing the simultaneously soft and angular outline of his shoulders.

Makoto nodded. He glanced away as Soul stood in place and pulled the plate closer, picked up the sandwich once more and began eating. Makoto wanted nothing more than to be a dignified young gentleman, content with talking to her more than eying her curves like some voyeur. In time, however, his gaze skittered back over to Soul. He blushed, sighing dreamily as he admired her.  


End file.
